Cash glanced at the clock. Ten minutes to go. She needed some music to unwind tonight. The checklist was completed early due to a slow Sunday night and heavy rainstorm. She sighed and blew out a breath. Thank God, I live upstairs. No commute to navigate on slick roads.
Cash settled into the familiar routine. Lights turned off except those above the bar. Playlist cued, steady thumping beats filled the silence. A swift kick to the door swung it open. She backed through with the last tub of glasses, placing them on the counter. Her eyes closed in exhaustion. Her mind returned to the image of unpaid bills and other debris littering the small office. She groaned at the thought of spending her day off cleaning.
Cash rolled her shoulders releasing tension. A favorite song played. She smoothed the skirt over her thighs, fingertips picking at the frayed edge. Her body swayed in rhythm, back arching as slender fingers slid into her hair. Everything faded away as she focused on the drums and guitars.
Cash paused, waiting for an extended guitar riff to end. Now. Her voice merged into the music.
"Skin to skin, let's do it again."
Drumbeat. Pause. Piano playing.
"Kiss my fire. It's you I desire."
"A hunger long denied. I crave sin tonight."
"I'm yours to take. All night long 'til our bodies ache."
"Breathe with me. Souls joined in ecstasy."
Cash sang, hips rotating in constant motion until her legs trembled. She drew in a shaky breath then shook her head loosening tendrils of damp hair that clung to her jaw. She bent forward, and sweat dripped onto her forearms.
Turning, she stood directly under the AC vent, waiting for it to kick on. She slowly dragged rounded nails along the sides of her neck to the buttons on her shirt. Cash popped them open, pulling the thin fabric off her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it at the bar top. She reached under the skirt; her panties soon joined the pile. She was too tired to care if they fell. Every muscle ached.
Cold air caressed her flushed skin as Cash leaned against the prep space. "Ohhh, God, that feels so good," she moaned. Thirsty, she blindly reached for the opened water. The cool moisture coated her dry throat. She lowered the bottle and pressed it into each nipple. A moment later, she rubbed them until tight, achy tips protruded through the sports bra.
Cash drank again, water dripping over her chin sliding to collect in deep cleavage. A finger trailed behind, catching the bottom of the bra, and tugging it out. So glad I wore a skirt tonight. She laughed and swallowed another mouthful. With lips nearly touching, water arced to flow down between creamy glistening globes towards her navel. Her finger dropped to the waistband, pulling it away from her skin as liquid trickled into the gap. Cash rolled her hips up to cradle the fluid as it seeped between smooth swollen flesh. Her whole body shuddered as goosebumps covered every inch. She massaged her thighs and glided her hands back up her torso to cup her breasts.
"Fuck," she gasped.
Teeth bit her bottom lip hard, tongue chasing to soothe the sting. She squeezed her wet thighs together and let her arousal subside. A sudsy hot shower and comfortable bed awaited where she could take her time.
Cash frowned, trying to remember the last time she had sex. Weeks? Months? Too damn long ago. Arms braced above her head lean muscles and bones shifted into place as she stretched. After a couple of deep breaths, she stepped forward.
Something smelled good. Cash inhaled again to discern what it was. Citrus? She moved, and the scent intensified. Spicy? She sniffed once more. It's cherries.
A drawer squealed. Glass clinked against wood. A throat cleared. "Ahem. Hello."
Cash's eyes flew open at the throaty rumble, pulse racing; she froze mid-step. Her stomach clenched painfully with nerves.
A broad-shouldered man sat comfortably on a stool, strong arms resting on the polished wood. Their eyes locked and held. He smiled.
"I haven't seen dancing like that since a trip to Cabo a dozen years ago."
"Thanks." She couldn't think. Cash stared at him, lips parted. A frisson of fear or excitement ran down her spine. Maybe both.
"You've got some serious moves." His eyes gleamed. Dark stubble framed a smirking mouth. "The kind men pay to see."
She crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed. "How did you get in here? We closed at two."
The door was locked. Wasn't it? She checked the time. Almost three o' clock. How did an hour go by so fast?
He frowned, eyeing her anxiously. "It was ten minutes to two. The door was unlocked." He paused and sipped his drink. "Don't get mad, but I locked the door."
Cash felt strange, out of sorts. She lifted a hand. Her fingers shook slightly.
I'm gonna kill Darren! He was supposed to lock the door when he left.
He regarded her carefully. "I'm not a criminal. Just a businessman off a long flight from London who needed to clean up a bit and relax."
No, he wasn't Cash's usual run-down bar clientele. He was the perfect kind of man.
Her eyes roamed over him. He was handsome and elegant in a crisp white button-down shirt with a vest. Kissable lips surrounded straight white teeth. Beautiful hands cupped the glass, long fingers absently twirling a cherry stem.
A dinner jacket draped across the bar. Right next to her neatly folded skirt with red silk panties sitting on top.
It had to be a dream. Exactly. Cash remembered skipping breakfast. Lunch was a dim memory. Toast? She closed her eyes and pinched the side of her thigh. Hard. Right on the spot she was convinced was extra jiggly despite loads of exercise.
"Shit! That hurt." Her knees buckled at the pain. It was not a dream. She grasped the bar and hoisted herself onto a stool.
"Are you okay?" He cocked his head and arched a brow, a look of concern on his face.
Cash blinked, distracted by his tongue flicking the stem dangling from his lips. "I'm fine." Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
"Did you eat all my maraschino cherries?"
He followed her gaze to the pile of stems.
In response, he reached over plucking the last cherry from the fruit caddy. He flushed and shifted in his seat.
"No. Saved it for you." He placed it in front of her carefully. Like a gift. Then he winked.
"Anyway, you didn't notice me. I wanted a quick drink but didn't want to disturb your performance. So, I served myself." His eyes flicked to her lips then away.
Cash rubbed her hands over her heated cheeks and groaned at the memory.
"I hope you missed most of it." Please say you did.
"I got an excellent view front and back. That mirror is stunning for its clarity. Especially in a bar."
Dammit. Cash groaned thinking of every line of her body on display in a private show for him to ogle.
"Lucky for you. You had front row seats." She squirmed under his gaze and avoided his eyes.
"The way you moved though I'm not surprised." His voice was a cross between sandpaper and velvet. A kind of whiskey roughness she could get lost inside. "What a view."
A phone vibrated against the wood interrupting them.
He pulled it from under his jacket and checked his texts stealing glances at her occasionally.
Cash should feel mortified, but she didn't. Just a little embarrassment. Yes, he caught her burning off stress in a rare moment of indulgence. Should I care? The chance of their paths crossing was slim in such a busy city. I'll never see him again. Do I even want to? She didn't know.
"My ride's almost here." He turned towards her. A brief flicker of indecision crossed his face. "Despite the circumstances, I've had a really great time." He looked a little sad. Lost.
"Yes, it's something to talk about." Cash laughed nervously and tossed her panties to him. "A little souvenir for your memories."
They stood, he gathered his jacket and suitcase.
"I'm sorry about the cherries." He stuck his hand out to shake hers. Warm, callused fingers enclosed her own. "I hadn't eaten in two days."
"I'm glad you enjoyed them." She felt the heat of his body pressed close. An awareness hummed to life between them in the awkward silence.
A potent kind of awareness that made her insides tumble and flip.
Cash hated that she noticed his body. The way his hair curled around his collar. The tanned forearms that flexed beneath his rolled sleeves. The shape of his ears. The way her tongue wanted to trace every line of his neck and jaw.
His phone buzzed followed by the honk of a car horn. He paused at the door. "Thanks for everything."
She was tempted to tell him to stay. "You're welcome."
#
Cash sipped apple juice and idly thumbed through pages of sketches. Color drawings of exteriors and interiors. Brick facades and lighting features, ceilings, and waterfalls. Brochures and invoices lay in neat piles across the bar.
She waited for Darren. He'd promised to meet but hadn't shown. If she called, he'd lie and make excuses. The lure of easy money and cheap women claimed his time. The calls and texts she received confirmed that. She'd stopped dating so he couldn't ask her dates for money or contacts.
Cash looked around the bar. The aging woodwork and decor needed replacing. That took hard work and too much money to maintain. Darren didn't notice or seem to care. He was a stranger now more than a brother. She needed to leave. Pack her things and walk out the door. It was a recurrent fantasy.